Feathers and Fuzz

one woman's cure for the empty-nester blues

The Menagerie

Intermission

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Wow, that was a LONG intermission!!

Predators ruled the roosts as last summer's nesting season progressed.  I wish I wouldn't take it so hard, but always do.  Remember when I laughed at the parent bluebirds who warned their nestlings of a snake's approach...laughed because the parents didn't know the snake couldn't defeat the baffle on the pole?  No one told me there was a resident 6+ foot rat snake who would enjoy the last laugh.  Re-design 486 now in place!

Meanwhile...

The Fuzz who owns the place (aka Drake) was diagnosed with a treatable liver disorder but in the course of the diagnosis they found a large mass on his spleen.  They removed his spleen and gave us the good news there was no cancer.

Recovery from surgery was a breeze.  Ice his incision multiple times per day for 10 minutes?  No problem!  Put the ice pack over the incision, lean a pillow against it to hold it in place, tell him to stay…come back in 10 minutes.  Love this dog!

Then the “fun” began.  Don’t ever let anyone tell you an organ is “not essential”!  I have devoted every day, and countless sleepless nights, staying ahead of all that has come at Drake since July.  You know how I am about animals, right?  So far, we’ve met all the challenges without a hitch.  Drake starts each day as he always has…thoroughly sniffing every single rung of the fence to discover which creatures were in/out during the night.  I’m glad he can’t tell me.

Drake on Ice

Of course, the resident birds are undaunted by all that daunts me.  I dared to go away for a night...leave things in my daughter's hands.  I told her she didn't need to worry about the birds.  I'd take care of feeding them when I got home.  Up pops this text message from my daughter early the next morning:

Angry Bluebird

It (Momma Bluebird) wants what she want EVERY morning.  I see you.  Get out of your chair and feed me those live mealworms!

The uplifting stories are piling up as the birds now appear in pairs.  Mr. Northern Cardinal is courting...tempting a female with gathered delicacies.  One Momma Blue has nearly completed her first nest.  The Eastern Phoebes are trying to keep the House Finches off their platform.  I have NO IDEA where the wrens nested, but they're out there somewhere.  And the Northern Flicker?  I'm breaking the fast with his story.

Intermission Ends Now

Night Prowler: Black Bear Crosses the Line

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After our little Synchronized Swimming break, the saga of the Black Bear resumes.  The woodland-trasher is on the move ... night prowler begins.  Of course, I had no idea of his prowling until the next day when I played back the camera video.  Then, I watched in true horror as he investigated EVERY empty bird feeding station on the property.

Let's get right to the video -- then I'll drag you through my feelings of horror.

Crossing the Line

It's one thing to maul the feeders in the woods.  It's another thing to climb the fence into the "dog park" and check out those feeding stations.  It's a final straw, however, when you cross over a fence into the space where Drake, the Pit Bull, and I hang out.  I figure it's only a matter of time before this night prowler will be swimming in my pool (well, mostly Drake's pool).

Although everyone who meets Drake is awed by his size, he is not the baddest boy on the planet he thinks he is.  Drake is a pipsqueak compared to Mr. Black Bear.

Black Bear at Fence

Black Bear Size

Drake at Fence

Drake Size

Georgia Wildlife continues to tell me there is nothing they will do -- and nothing more I can do.  It is clear to me:  IF I put ample food out in the woods, the bear is likely to hang out there until he is full -- but he'll be back looking for more.  IF I take all the food away, he knows no limits.  For now, Drake and I stay inside from sunset to sunrise -- not so much for my safety, but for Drake's.

If you don't already know this about me, I don't give up easily.  There's always a solution.  It's my job to find it!  Meanwhile, please don't tell Drake I called him a pipsqueak.